Mark froze. His jaw clenched. He felt his heart pounding against his chest in an irregular rhythm. His regret toward Seren now clashed with his fear for the life of the fetus—the sole reason he was still alive—as Beatrice had just taken his own flesh and blood hostage.
Slowly, the tension in Mark's shoulders eased—a gesture of surrender that appeared convincing to Beatrice. Mark took a short, labored breath, then stared at Beatrice with a suddenly vacant gaze.
"Fine," Mark said flatly. "You win, for now."
Mark approached Haelyn, wrapping an arm around her shoulder to help her walk.
"Go into the room. Rest!" Mark said softly.
Mark guided Haelyn into the room, then sat her down on the edge of the bed. He intended to leave the room immediately.
